Bound to Her Desert Captor

One other man?

‘And I trust you.’

It was those last words that made his heart leap inside his chest and tipped him over the edge. Or perhaps it was the way her inner muscles rippled around him, drawing him further inside. Either way he no longer cared. All he cared about, all he could think about was taking them both higher, driving them deeper until time and space became irrelevant.

‘Jag!’ Her body gripped him tighter, growing taut as she moved more frantically beneath him.

‘That’s it, habiba, ya amar, like that... Yes, just...’

He felt the instant her body reached its peak, revelling in the way she screamed his name as she came apart in his arms. And then he couldn’t think at all because her muscles were clenching around him like a silken fist. His body surged forward, driving into her with none of his usual finesse, until, with his own cry of release, he lost himself inside her.

* * *

Jag woke some time later to find Regan wrapped around him like ivy. One arm slung over his chest, her thigh positioned high over his. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept all night with a woman. Sleep was a luxury he usually caught in snatches. Was that what had woken him so suddenly? The fact that he wasn’t up? Or was it the warm, naked woman at his side who had given him more pleasure than he could ever remember having in bed?

His flesh stirred, definitely liking that second idea better than the first.

She must have registered the change in him because she made a small, sleepy noise, her body snuggling deeper against his.

Jag smiled, shifting a strand of her hair back from her forehead. He loved her hair. The colour, the texture... It felt like silk and fairly vibrated under the sunlight.

He told himself that he wouldn’t wake her. She deserved to sleep and she would no doubt be a little tender from not having made love in such a long time.

She had only had one lover before him. He’d had no idea she was that inexperienced but he wasn’t unhappy about it. Had he ever had a woman who had given herself to him so openly? So wholeheartedly? It was as if she’d held nothing back from him and he wasn’t sure he entirely liked how that made him feel. Vulnerable. Open. A little raw, perhaps.

Slowly he became aware of his heart beating and knew it wasn’t a sensation he registered very often.

Regan shifted again, her arm moving as if she was searching for something in her sleep.

Him?

Heat coiled through him.

On some elemental level Jag recognised that Regan had unlocked a deep-seated hunger inside him he wasn’t altogether comfortable with. She made him think of things like loss and longing, like desire and need, and...

‘The heart knows what the heart wants.’

Zumar’s statement came to him from out of nowhere.

The heart?

This wasn’t about his heart. It was about sex. Very good, very hot sex.

His hand tightened in her hair as she made another little sleepy sound. It was meant to reassure her that everything was okay but deep inside he wasn’t all that sure that it was true. ‘It’s okay, habiba, you’re only dreaming.’

‘Jag?’ Her brown eyes fluttered open, dark and confused in the pre-dawn light. She leaned up on one elbow, her lovely autumn hair sliding across one shoulder, the hint of jasmine and sunshine drifting between them.

‘Is it morning?’

‘No.’

They stared at each other. Common sense asserted itself, warning him to back away, to put some distance between them.

Obviously picking up on his thoughts she frowned. ‘I should go back to my tent. You must want to sleep.’ She swallowed, her eyes darting from his, presumably searching for the gown he had dumped on the floor.

Jag wanted to tell her that was a really good idea. The best idea. But he couldn’t because it was neither of those things.

‘That’s a terrible idea, habiba,’ he said, his voice husky.